Bonds of Night
by Star Tae
Summary: Hazuki-contractor, vengeful executioner-hesitates.
1. Night Bound revised

Some minor changes were made, and also thought I should mention that I have no claim on Hei a.k.a. BK201 a.k.a. The Black Reaper, Youko, Hazuki, or any of the Darker Than Black characters.

To hesitate on a kill was illogical, and yet she did. She had pursued him with a vengeance for Youko's death. Youko—her one bright light—her day. And now she had him—BK201—vulnerable and at her fingertips. She had never hesitated before. She felt compelled to lick her lips, to taste the remnant of him left from her remuneration, but she subdued the urge.

It had confused her, the sensation that had stolen through her as she kissed him. She should have been repulsed, as she was when her remuneration forced her to kiss Shizume or any other male. BK201 was a man after all.

Yet, he didn't taste of cigarettes, stale beer, or unwashed masculinity. His taste made her think of clear winter nights, a lover's embrace, and silvery moonlight. Her sudden confusion made her cut their connection. She lashed out, striking her captive across the face. "My remuneration," she told him, feeling the need to justify herself to him, and to Youko, before drawing her blade.

But then she hesitated. Her eyes met his midnight blue ones, and she was once more reminded of night and the kiss. She stopped the downward plunge of her blade. Then he spoke, his voice like black velvet. He spoke of Youko, and that should have been enough. It should have broken the spell that held her, allowing her to fulfill her vow. But she had always thought night more beautiful than the day.

When her boss called out to her, telling her of BK201's innocence concerning Youko, she tried to tell herself that the relief she felt was at finally knowing the truth. Not for BK201.

She allowed none of her relief, none of her confusion, to show on her face as she wrapped her fingers in the lapels of BK201's coat once more to haul him to his feet. Logically, she should have left him there, or killed him anyway to prevent his further interference. Instead, she forced him against the wall and frisked him.

Without a doubt, he was a man. No soft curves like Youko. He was tempered steel, yet she caught her fingers lingering, prolonging their exploration. Hazuki felt eyes on her and glanced up to meet his as they slanted across his shoulder. He knew, and was amused. She slammed against him, suddenly angry that he could upset her control, her logic. He gasped, and the sound sent a thrill through her as she bound his hands behind his back, leaving the cable binding his upper arms in place.

She sensed her superior's impatience, finally aware once more that they were not alone. "You are coming with me," she said in her captive's ear, the tenor of her voice far more neutral than her thoughts.

As Hazuki led BK201 down the corridor, with her superior behind them, she felt the weight of his gaze once more. Was he studying her?

No. He was trying to unobtrusively free his hands, and was watching her for a reaction. She smiled. Not with her mouth, but her eyes, as she met his stare. His hands stilled. Though his face showed nothing, she sensed his uncertainty and reveled in it. "Don't bother," she told him. "They aren't coming off unless cut. They suit you."

She won a reaction there. He looked startled for a moment before he regained control.

"It was Shizume who killed Youko," she heard her superior say from behind, oblivious to the tension between Hazuki and BK201.

"Shizume?" she said the name like a curse. It was Shizume who killed Youko. Him she could kill. He was one of the typical males she knew—uncouth, vulgar, loud, with a scent usually stained by cigarettes—not sleek and lean, quiet and graceful as a shadow, with even a voice reminiscent of night. She allowed the description of Youko's death to fuel her anger.

A pounding began beside them. She felt BK201's eyes on her once more, gauging her response, but she was careful to offer none. Her gut told her the traitor was among this group attempting to batter a way into the corridor. Without glancing at her superior, she instructed them to move on. "I will take care of the traitor," she said. As the two men walked past, Hazuki refused to allow her eyes to follow her captive, but neither did she wish to let him go without a word. "BK201." He paused and glanced back at her. She felt the weight of it, before she told him that he was free for now. Not in those words, but he understood. He glided down the corridors as if his coat were wings, her superior behind him.

She allowed a true smile to touch her lips. To think, after all this time, she found a man that didn't repulse her senses, and they might both die before nightfall. No. She refused that thought. They would live. He would be free to finish his business for now. But then he would be forced to submit once more. Some things were just meant to be bound, even the night.


	2. Night Bound II

They aren't mine in any way! Shame really. Who wouldn't want them!

Also, I make nothin' from the story. I'm broke if you must know.

Hazuki braced herself, allowing the Americans and the traitor, Shizume, to finish clearing the way into the corridor. She forced thoughts of black velvet and BK201 from her mind. She owed Youko vengeance. As brilliant daylight pierced through the opening and into the corridor, she bled out among her enemy.

The humans—CIA or not—were easy. A flick of her wrist decapitated most of them at her exit. The others quickly followed. As she killed, she felt her logic fall back in sinc, which made her question her previous hesitation. Perhaps it was merely a momentary lapse. As she took the traitor apart limb from limb, there was no hesitation. Even as he begged, offering her a position with the CIA, reminding her that the area was surrounded, she still did not hesitate.

Perhaps when she saw BK201 again, he would be just another man once more. At least a part of her hoped so as she drove the rebarb into Shizume's brain. "I should avoid him altogether," she voiced aloud, as she turned her back on the traitor's corpse.

She had gotten accustomed to women. She understood them. Men she despised, at least she had. She should pretend that the confusion with BK201 had never happened. Yet, as she battled with reason in her mind, her feet carried her back inside, mirroring the route he had taken earlier.

Before she realized it, she was nearly upon him. He was laying out Izanami alongside two children, his companions. They were all dead, she saw. As she stepped beside him, she saw him tense where he knelt near the silver-haired girl. She allowed her eyes to scan his figure, startled to realize she was checking him for wounds. So much for indifference returning.

Then he turned his gaze upon her. To most, his expression would have been blank, unfeeling. But she noticed the sheen to his eyes he sought to hide, as well as the slight tremble to his bottom lip. She was on her knees before her next breath, and as she exhaled, her hands wrapped in the lapels of his coat and pulled him into her arms. She was kissing him again. She told herself she had no choice—kissing a man was the remuneration for using her power. Her fingers buried themselves into his hair as she sought to devour him. He still tasted of night, but with an element of the sea this time. And she realized why, as she caught one of his tears while her fingers traveled down the column of his throat, tickling along his collarbone.

As she allowed him a breath, he let out a brief laugh that broke off at a sob. "Your remuneration," he said, "I had forgotten." He then added, "You should go. It isn't safe here."

She thought of agreeing on the remuneration. It was true. She had needed it; but instead, she fisted his hair tight enough to draw out a gasp. She really loved that sound. Pulling his head back, she nipped at the juncture between shoulder and neck before returning to nibble at his bottom lip. "I'll go," she told him, her breath mingling with his. "But you're coming with me." She saw confusion in his eyes. It made him look vulnerable, far from the face of a killer.

"I'm not a woman, Hazuki," he told her, making a half-hearted attempt to remove himself from her embrace. She wouldn't allow it.

"So I've told myself," she said. "I don't seem to care." She continued trailing her fingers in patterns across his throat, his collarbone, loving the feel of soft skin over taunt muscle. His black clothing made a beautiful contrast to his light skin, like the moon against the night sky. She found herself imagining him tied down with black velvet, his muscles straining as he sought to be free, and she was kissing him again. She didn't catch him completely by surprise this time. He tried to keep her out, refusing to submit to her kiss.

She smiled against his lips before trailing her own across his jaw to the tender flesh at the base of his ear. She heard the quick intake of his breath. Her hand slid down his shirt, pulling at the hem till her fingers touched the bare skin at his waist, sliding beneath the fabric before lightly dragging nails across his ribcage. He jumped at the sensation and a soft whine fell from his lips. She kissed him again and he failed to shut her out. Her tongue delved past his defenses and the battle was on. He fought her for control of the kiss, but with him in her arms, she held the higher ground. He was forced to submit, and it thrilled her.

"I want your name," she said, dragging her tongue across his bottom lip.

"Hei," he said, without hesitation. A name that means 'grace.' She thought it suited him.

"We're leaving, Hei. The Americans will be closing in on this location soon," she told him, standing to her feet and pulling him up with her.

"You'll die if you stay near me. Everyone close to me does," he said, his eyes falling once more on the three figures laid out in the grass. "For the most part."

Her brow rose at his last remark, but she grabbed his chin, forcing his gaze to her. "I intend to get very close to you. That's my choice," she said, pulling him after her.


	3. Chapter 3

Is it possible to write a naughty scene without explicit references? I don't know, you tell me, but I was curious to try

I also wanted to thank all of you who took time to review. I wasn't planning on writing another chapter, but I did it for you.

Again, I own no part of Hazuki (shame on you, Hazuki), Hei, or any of the other _Darker Than Black_ characters. Mores the pity.

"Untie me, Hazuki, please." His voice was even more delicious when he begged. His limbs, as graceful in battle as his name implied, were trembling uncontrollably. He had given up on threats and curses an hour ago. Now he begged, and with good reason. She had been teasing him for four hours. She ran her fingertips down the smooth length of his spine, as he hung suspended from the ceiling, his ankles spread and leashed to the rings she had driven into the floor. She smiled as his flesh quivered. Her hand then closed around the crank she had installed on the wall while he had lay unconscious upstairs. She released the catch, but only enough to allow him to sit on the stool she had provided.

"You want release? Then do as you're told. Sit," she said, her breath ghosting across his ear.

It had been easy to lull him into a sense of complacency. Over the last three months, they had worked together to avoid the American forces that hunted them. He had become accustomed to her, but only allowed her close for her remuneration. He would then withdraw—shy from her touch, her kiss. She decided to bide her time. Hazuki always got what she wanted, and he ate enough that slipping something into his food had proven easy.

He turned expressive, twilight eyes onto her. Eyes so full of emotion, she had no doubt that it was Hei looking at her. Her Hei, and no one else. She had discovered very early on that there were two other possibilities when it came to this man.

He had made a remark that day she wrenched him from the side of his dead, one that had confused her at first. She soon learned what his puzzling remark had meant as they had sought to escape the CIA. She watched as he dipped two slender fingers into a pool of water. His eyes dulled, as if he were no more than a doll. And at that moment, he was just that. When she asked about it, his smile was self-deprecating.

A wish had been made by his little doll, the one she knew as Izanami. A wish that he would be protected and that Izanami—no, Yin—would always be with him. Now she was, in a way. And for protection, his sister, Pai, had been returned to him. At first, Hazuki tried to explain her sudden infatuation with him using the two women, but quickly realized she was deluding herself. That first kiss was before the wish. No, these women within him hid what had drawn her.

She was unnerved by the deadened look that overtook him when he used the specters. She had to suppress the urge to check his life signs. And when he used his sister's gift, his expression was so similar to that of a doll. But even when he wasn't using their talents, he hid behind them. She didn't want them.

No. She no longer tried to rationalize her obsession. She accepted it. She wanted Hei, but to get to him, she had to break down their defense of him. So she had. She could now see Hei, and what a sight he was.

As he struggled against the velvet ties and bindings that held him, she thought he had never looked more breathtaking. Hei was far from indifferent or emotionless. He was desperate, passionate—beautiful.

She had planned this for some time, though the thought had occurred the first day this obsession with him took root. And he had fought it, just as she knew he would.

"Please, don't make me," he begged, a glassy sheen to those exquisite eyes. A single drop of sweat trickled down his temple, or would have, but a swipe of her tongue caught it.

Her fingers combed through sweat-slicked locks of midnight hair. "Sit. Do this, and I will grant you release," she promised, her fingers lightly caressing the velvet bow that prevented him. He whined. His back arched as he sought to prolong the contact. "Sit," she ordered, mercilessly withdrawing her hand.

She watched in utter fascination as his teeth clenched and he wrenched at his hands in yet another desperate attempt to break her knots, to break free. His chest heaved with his effort to draw breath after his struggle. She knew when he finally decided to submit to the order. His head fell forward, and his hands wrapped around the slackened bindings above. He pulled himself high enough to hover over the object protruding from the seat of the stool. A stool she had made especially for him.

She moved behind him, allowing her hands to skate across shoulder blades before sliding down his sides, glancing across his ribs, and gripping his hips to move them into position. But as he was slowly breached, she couldn't resist the sight of his face. She stepped over one slender ankle to move before him. "Look at me, Hei. I want to see you," she told him, her hand grasping his chin and lifting his face to meet her own.

His lips were trembling, as was the rest of him, from the strain of controlling his descent. His expression was a blend of pleasure and pain, as well as resignation. "Open your eyes, Hei," she ordered. As his eyes fluttered open, she stepped flush against his hovering frame, her hands desperately exploring his spread thighs, his abdomen—everywhere—as her teeth nipped at those tempting lips.

Her eyes, though, never left his. She sensed hesitation in him, his descent halted. Her hands came to rest on his hips, and she kissed him. Her tongue delved in, attempting to taste all the mystery that was Hei. She explored his mouth as if it was their first kiss, and she still wanted more. She could feel the tremors through his body now as he fought to hold himself aloft. Her grip tightened on his hips and pressed down. She swallowed his cry as he was driven home on the seat. She broke the kiss.

"Hei," she said, her voice soft against his temple. "Never hide from me again, Hei." She slipped a leg through the spokes on the stool, holding it in place as she shifted his hips against the hard surface. His head fell back with a cry. "Promise me," she said, shifting his hips once more. "Promise you will never hide behind them again."

"I . . ." his voice broke as she swiveled his hips this time, and he fought to muffle a scream. "I promise! Please!"

Hazuki untangled herself from her captive and the stool, and stepped back to admire the view. The black velvet that trailed across his chest, his thighs and arms—as well as far more intimate parts—made a lovely contrast to his quivering flesh. "You can wear your masks for the rest of the world, but you will let me see you," she said, as she moved against him once more. "To touch you," she added, her fingertips flickering across the line of his jaw. "To taste you," she whispered, as she bent to suckle his collarbone. "To hear you," she said, as she shifted his hips against the stool once more, eliciting a soft cry.

"You will let me close, Hei," she told him, as she buried one hand in his hair, wrenching his head back, while the other grasped the bindings at his wrists to pull herself up. "You will not push me away," she said, as she mounted him, pulling a moan from herself as well as Hei.

Three months he had held her at bay, and four hours it had taken to force his submission. Four hours that had been as torturous to her as to him. She grinded her hips against his, and he was writhing beneath her—impaled and impaling. "Hazuki! Please!"

She reached between them and untied the little black ribbon at his base, and she was kissing him again, devouring him. She laced her ankles in the spokes of the stool to hold it in place as she rode him hard, swallowing his cries. She broke off the kiss, but kept her eyes locked with his, enjoying every emotion that swirled in their night-tinged depths. "Hei," she said, her voice strained by emotions that, as a contractor, she had all but forgotten. "Beautiful Hei." She wanted to draw out their intimacy a little longer, but three months of forced abstinence had taken its toll, shortening the ride that had them both screaming as they reached the end. When his warmth flooded her, his eyes rolled back as he slipped into oblivion.

She held him close as he slept, unwilling to be separated from him just yet. This man had upset her equilibrium in every way possible. She no longer existed as merely a contractor. She felt. She lived. She loved. He could stir so many emotions within her with just a glance. She had come close to this with Youko, but had never reached it. She glanced out the tiny basement window to see night had fallen. It was fitting, since so had she.


End file.
